Merry Christmas, Detective Inspector
by Come-Along-Williams
Summary: In the lead-up to Christmas, Lestrade finds himself working yet another double-shift. During one such shift, he meets Amelia Pond a kiss-o-gram who happens to be his witness. Amy/Lestrade, Lestrade/Amy


The snow was falling fast. The weatherman had predicted "light dustings of snow" but everyone knew that all weather forecasters were liars. Lestrade turned the car off, but refused to get out. He loved his job, but he could certainly do without the last minute call-outs. He'd been so close to the end of shift, and now it looked like he'd be pulling another double. As if he hadn't already done enough of them this month. The festive season certainly brought the crazies out in numbers.

His fingers drummed a random rhythm on the steering wheel as he downed the last of his coffee, his brown eyes scanning the perimeter. One more hour and he could have been at home, having a couple of glasses of wine in front of the fireplace and trying to get an early night. Alone. A frown crinkled Greg's features as he thought of the prospect. Christmas was a horrible time to be alone.

With a sigh he pushed himself out of the car. Better late than never. And better now than when their witness had caught hypothermia and had to be whisked away to hospital. Why the hell was Sally conducting the interview outside in this weather?! He was all for preserving the crime-scene, but keeping someone outside in weather like now was almost criminal.

He wrapped his scarf tighter around himself and quickly buttoned up his coat as he approached the pair. He nodded a hello to Sally before turning his attention to their witness. What was she wearing...? It was a police uniform, but it certainly wasn't standard issue. Her skirt would never meet regulation standards, what with its length and the way it hugged her figure. She had very nice legs, he noted before pushing the thought away. Get a grip, loser. You're here to interview her, not to ogle.

"Evening Detective Inspector," Sally gave a nod in greeting before pretending to consult her notes. "This is Amelia Pond. She was tonight's...entertainment," Sally offered, not looking up from her notebook, and Greg didn't like the judgment in her tone. He could see a shadow of a smirk on her lips too, but now was not the time for a lecture on how to treat witnesses.

"I can speak for myself, thanks," the redhead huffed, glaring at the woman. She knew exactly what Inspector Donovan was insinuating and she didn't like it one bit. Clearly they no longer taught tact and people skills at the police academy. "And it's not Amelia, it's Amy."

A small smile tugged at Greg's lips but he managed to keep from breaking into a smile. Amelia Pond. What a wonderful name. Like something out of one of those fairytales that he'd read his children when they were young. "Detective Inspector Lestrade." She was shivering, despite the bright orange shock blanket around her thin shoulders, and within seconds Greg had slipped off his coat and draped it around her. Ignoring the surprised look that Sally shot him, he instead waved her away, indicating that he was taking over the interview. Her brows knitted and she gave a soft huff, but did what she was told. He gave Amy a half-smile, trying to put her at ease. "But call me Greg."

Amy's eyes were round with surprise at the gesture and for a moment she didn't speak, just blinked at the kind gesture. No one had ever offered her their coat before, save for Rory but he hardly counted. He would have given her the shirt off his back if only he'd asked. "Thank you. I'm...I'm not a whore," she added, crossing her arms defensively across her chest as she watched the woman detective go.

Now it was Greg's turn to blink. "I didn't suggest you were." He snuck another peek at her outfit before he caught himself and turned his attention back to her.

"Your colleague called me tonight's entertainment. Insinuating I'm a whore. I'm not. I'm a kiss-o-gram. I don't shag people for money," she grumbled, nibbling on her lip and taking her hat off to run a hand through her hair.

"You just kiss them?" Greg shot back, and a hint of teasing crept into his voice. Was a kiss-o-gram even a real job? He'd heard of stripper-grams before; Patrol had hired one to come to the office when they heard an officer had just got engaged, but he'd never heard of a kiss-o-gram. Maybe it was a new thing - he never could keep up with all the latest trends.

Amy nibbling her lip was oddly distracting, and Greg looked down at her lips for a second. Despite the harsh night winds biting at them, they looked soft. He had no doubts that she must have been pretty popular at those sorts of parties.

"You sound like my aunt. And Rory," she groused, but a shadow of a smile passed over her lips. Rory had hated her job. They'd constantly had fights about the fact that she was getting paid to kiss guys. He was jealous of people other than him getting to kiss her, and she refused to give up her job. It had been the only exciting thing in Leadworth, and had only gotten more exciting since her move to London. She pushed all thoughts of her ex far from her mind, not wanting to think of him right now. "Yes, I go to parties and kiss people. It's fun. And it gets the bills paid." She caught him looking down at her lips, and a smirk curled up the corners of lips. Not all of Scotland Yard were prudes, it seemed. Nice to know.

A sheepish grin flitted over Greg's features at being caught before he gave a cough, his expression becoming a professional mask. What was he doing? Idiot. "Forensics should be done clearing at least one of the rooms, so we can go in and finish the interview in there. Forecast said the weather was going to get worse and it looks bad for Scotland Yard if our main witness ends up with hypothermia in hospital." A hint of teasing snuck into his tone as he turned around and strode towards the building. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at himself, silently chastising himself and reminding himself to get a grip. A Scottish redhead in a police uniform - geez, how predictable could he get?

 **X~X~X**

It was another hour before they managed to finish the interview. The pair kept getting off topic and somehow Greg learned all about her job, her move to London, her aunt, her ex, and a friend she referred to only as The Doctor. She liked to travel, he found out, and couldn't decide on a job so she kept switching. She liked Astronomy, and writing, and kissing random strangers at parties when she got paid for it.

He'd also gotten all the answers that he'd needed to ask for the actual investigation, but that wasn't nearly as interesting. He wasn't sure why he cared, really. He never bothered listening to the life-stories of other witnesses. But something about her struck him. He wasn't sure if it was the accent, or her musical laugh, or the way her eyes lit up and sparkled when she began talking about something that interested her, but whatever it was made him not want the interview to end.

Amy yawned, trying unsuccessfully to hide it behind her hand. She looked at her watch and a frown creased her pretty features. "Are we almost done, Inspector?"

He nodded, almost reluctantly. He didn't want her to go and have to return to the mundane slog that was going to be the double shift. He didn't want her to leave into the blizzard, and forget about him. "We're done, Miss Pond. Please don't leave town, just in case we need to contact you again."

She blinked a couple of times at the title. After all they'd talked about in the past hour, she thought they'd be over titles. But she let it go. Right now she had bigger problems to worry about. Namely that her phone was dead and she was now stuck without a ride home, having caught a taxi here. And with the weather slowly turning into a snowstorm, she doubted that taxis would just be cruising around.

A soft curse sounded, followed by a frustrated sigh. Nothing else for it - she'd have to ask for his. "Could I borrow your phone, Detective? Mine's dead and I need to catch a cab. And as lovely company you and your colleagues are, I don't want to be stuck here all night," she asked, crinkling her nose at the prospect though she couldn't help but smile a little. Being stuck with Greg wouldn't be too bad, she couldn't help but think. As long as it was just him.

"Let me give you a ride home." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I mean, it's going to cost you a fortune to get a taxi in this weather, and I need to get back to Scotland Yard anyway," he added quickly, to make up for his lack of judgement.

"Are...are you sure? It's a little out of the way from Scotland Yard."

Greg knew that she was giving him a way out, but he couldn't take it. He'd offered and taking that back now was a dick move in his book. Besides, it would be nice to take her home. Spend just a little more time with the enigmatic redhead. So he simply nodded. "I'm sure. I doubt cabs are even running in this weather."

A warm smile crinkled her features and her eyes took on a grateful sparkle. "Thank you. You're a life-saver," she added with a chuckle.

Greg couldn't help but grin. "We aim to please."

 **X~X~X**

Silence settled upon the two in the car. Greg was concentrating on the road and Amy didn't want to distract him. He caught her glancing at him in the corners of his eyes several times, making him smile, but he didn't say anything. What could he say? A few times he chanced to look off the road and at her, but she was staring out the window, seemingly lost in a daydream.

He slowed down as he turned into his street. It felt odd not having talked the whole way here after their discussion earlier, but it seemed that they were both lost for words. Finally he came to a halt outside her house and turned off the engine.

"Hypothetically speaking, if someone wanted to book specifically you for a party, could they?" he asked in an attempt to break the silence with something other than announcing they'd arrived. The question sounded stupidly suggestive, and Lestrade cursed his tired brain.

Amy turned to look at him with an impish grin, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "Do you want a kiss, Detective?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

He flushed crimson, thankful that the darkness inside the car would conceal it. "No I...I just meant...in general...if, um..." He couldn't think of a way to finish that sentence. Thankfully she didn't keep him flailing for long.

Unclipping her seatbelt she leaned over until she was just millimeters from his lips, a sultry smile now playing on hers. "I'm very popular at Christmas parties, Detective. You'd need to book fast," she murmured, hot breath tickling his lips.

Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, and the next second her lips brushed up against his, cold but soft. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before kissing her back, pushing all thoughts of how this was completely against regulations far from his mind. It had been so long since he'd kissed someone. Properly kissed someone. Julie had always been so stingy with her kisses in the lead-up to the divorce.

His kiss was hesitant at first, but when she didn't pull away after a couple of seconds, he pressed his lips a little harder against hers. He couldn't help but smile when she scooted closer and pressed herself closer to him as she kissed him, his hand reaching up to get entangled in her fiery locks. She tasted faintly of custard and raspberries, and finding that he liked it, he deepened the kiss.

She only smirked against his lips as she continued to kiss him, hands reaching up to play with his hair. Her lungs began to protest for air, but she ignored them. She didn't want to break the kiss; she was enjoying it way too much. He tasted of coffee, cigarettes, and mint chewing gum, and although she normally hated the taste of cigarettes, on him she rather liked it.

Finally, she couldn't ignore the need for air any longer and gently she pulled away, her teeth gently running along Greg's bottom lip. She ran a hand through her hair as she tried to catch her breath, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning.

It was the longest kiss she'd had in a long while. And the nicest, too. She liked it, and she wanted to do it again. Pulling out a card, she slipped it in his shirt pocket, before leaning over to whisper in his ear, lips brushing against the soft skin. "I don't usually do one-on-one parties, but for you I'm happy to make an exception, Detective." She gave his earlobe a gentle nip before sliding out of the car. "Merry Christmas, Detective."


End file.
